Tears of a Murderess
by Absol Master
Summary: To Jicar540. /she was a newborn, exiled to the snow./ After everything has been lost and stripped away, all that remains is what truly forms your heart--the love, the lies, the dreams you were denied. The tale of the Witch of Snow Mountain.


This is the backstory of the witch at the Hunter's Altar (the one you have to drop "offerings" in front of, or it will send you back to El Nath).

I wrote this for Jicar540, because I promised to write a oneshot for him if he scored higher than me at the PSLE. As an incentive. Oh, and he did phenomenally well.

I'm guessing he likes snow a lot, since he writes about it so much. So I wrote about snow.

Honestly, I'm rather disappointed about how this came out. I would have done more. But I realised how suitable it would be to post it on Christmas—and besides, I don't think tampering with it will make it much better. And I honestly did my best on it already, without the touch ups. So I left it this way.

Hope you can enjoy some moments of the story, if not the whole. I'm not expecting (m)any good reviews.

Biblical allusions scattered around. It's ok if you don't see them.

* * *

**Dedicated to Jicar540. Congratulations on your PSLE! This is also your Christmas present.**

* * *

**TEARS OF A MURDERESS**

_Unto the world, a new day is born._

The wind is sweet, sweeping the snows, through jagged chasms and swooping valleys, cresting the glass mountains and the shimmering fields. It sings and flows, touching the yeti's noses as they raise their heads to the silver morning. It whirls and whistles round the sleeping lycanthropes in a fantastical dance, brushing the snow from their matted grey coats.

And in the cold valleys far away, the winding whispers grow into harrowed cries. The winds can feel the unrest in the invisible caverns around them as they ascend the towering hundred-miles, dark caves that hold the birthrights of a million histories.

Blinking their eyes, the spirits of the wind dance away.

The gusts are swift on their long journeys across the treacherous El Nath path. But as they soar by its valleys and frozen glades, they never miss it—the lonely, icy edifice perched on the outcrops. On it the words are cut deep, old wounds of a heartfelt knife, words that hold all the sorrow of a thousand lifetimes. The gentle winds caress the icy letters in grief, each one—before they soar away, leaving the solitary altar behind. And the ice tomb gazes on, down into the valleys, with its wish to shed a tear.

The touch of the gales is like…

…_is like the brush of icy wings._

She feels their caress on her face.

In sudden desperation, she screams.

_Here lies Arelise Wren_

_Daughter of the Dragons_

* * *

_Unto the world, a child is born._

The evening was blue, vivid falling blue. In the deepest warmth of the cold village, a woman lay, fists clenched, at the edge of her bed, sweat carving salty rivers into the white sheets. Around her, her loved ones watched, their anticipation even greater than her own. Faces shone warm in the yellow firelight, identical to her in her burning pain.

The shadows of death were not to be fooled—they danced about her, extending welcoming hands. She had been warding them off with excuses all this while, but she took care not to touch them.

_How long more must we wait? _They kept asking. _How long are you going to run?_

_Please, until the child is born. I cannot let her go. I love her too much._

Slowly, slowly, she eased her way down the wearying road. _J__ust a little more! Soon, your friends will be smiling, your child will be crying. And you will have a bowl of warm red bean soup in your hands to revive you. The midwives are waiting—_

Her breath was cut short. Around her, their pleas were turning into screams—the shadows couldn't wait any longer.

A cold grip encircled her weakening hand. And before she had time to realize, it had crept through her arm, her body, a cold slithering snake, wresting her slowly from the world of cold mountains and shining fields—

Her screams died even before they reached her. All around her, everything was fading—the voices, her husband's touch, all drifting further and further away as she sank into the cold pool of oblivion…

_But I won't deny it, for I love her too much._

…

* * *

"_Murderess!"_

The newborn wailed as the slap met her cheek—felt the starry night wind rush by her ears, her head crunch deep into the frozen snow. The stars flooded her eyes, the snowy wind in her nose.

Tears stung on her cheeks. She bawled, gasping the wind of the night as the furious footsteps faded away. She cried for all the worth of her life, as all newborns did. She was certain, somehow, that crying would bring the two men back.

But there was only silence and stillness around her, flooding the spaces between her shrieks. The dark figures had vanished, and beyond, the icy, windswept rises entombed the sky.

Squirming restlessly on the burning snow, her tears washed into the ice at her fingers. Her hands were cold, bitten by the frost, the teeth of tiny monsters.

_This is the world. This is the way things run._

The newborn fell into deep quiet, the silence sovereign. And there, she learnt the first lesson of her life.

* * *

_Arelise? Wake up, Arelise._

The girl stretched, rubbing her eyes. The ice-coldness around her brought her such comfort she almost fell back asleep.

_Arelise! Breakfast!_

A something hard and long nudged her, and she rose quickly to her feet before her eyes could close again. The girl glanced up to find her foster mother, Ydrila, gazing back with stern grey eyes.

_I see you are awake, Arelise. Why are humanlings so difficult to awaken?_

Anger bubbled in her throat._It is not because I am a humanling, you idiot! It is because I had a terrible night last night!_

Regardless, her foster mother bowed her head lower, in a gesture of curiosity. Remembering the contents of her dream, Arelise swallowed.

_I dreamt of snow, hurting me, _she replied. _I dreamt of tall humans. I dreamt that they threw me into the mountains, and ran away—_

_Now, dear, _Ydrila responded quickly, seeing how agitated her foster daughter was growing. Her great icy wings of iridescent silver and white touched her back in affection, but she flung them furiously away. _You are only seventeen star-cycles in age. That is not something you should trouble yourself with—_

_But I know it is important! _Her tune was high and desperate. _You have been obscuring my real past from me all this while. You refuse to give me _any_ details! But I have every right to know how this happened! Why won't you tell me? What are you hiding?_

_Why must I keep telling you? The truth will only hurt you, _her foster mother replied with irritation.

_So _tell me._ Only something important will agitate me so. That dream was about my past, _wasn't it_?_ _How did I come to be here? _She was breathing fast and hard. Ydrila drew backwards slightly.

_Promise you will not cry, Arelise. Promise me that._

_Yes, I _promise_._

Her sigh was lyrical and dissonant. She gazed up at the sky, through the cave mouth. _Ancient One, forgive me for my sin, _she prayed. Then, she turned gravely to Arelise.

_My dear…you weren't always with us. You were from the village on the border._

Already, the girl's eyes were growing wider. She begged silently for more, and Ydrila went on.

_It was a day when the hunt was low—I was standing on the mountaintop, searching for yetis… Then I heard your cry. I descended the mountain, to see two humans—_

She froze and turned quickly away. Arelise felt herself grow even colder, despite the dragon magic that protected her. _What—?_

_They threw you straight into the rocks. They called you a murderess. They said that they would exile you forever from the village, because you killed your own mother._

_But—_

_There you lay, just a single little humanling—and of course, my hunger almost engulfed me. But…but then I looked down into your eyes. _Arelise Wren—_I read your name there. And at once I knew that I could not—_

Their silence after that was filled with the whisper of gales through the icicles. Arelise's throat was dry, the shock still descending into her heart, deepening still.

_They…threw me away? They did not…want me?_

_It is a tradition of theirs to exile their murderers, like this. You had been but five minutes old, and they had abandoned you to the wildernesses._

The human girl forgot her promise. It was too late to remember, anyway. Her tears were already swelling in her eyes, running down her cheeks, flooding her hands coldly in no time. _They—they abandoned me? How can I have killed anyone, if I was only five minutes old? How could they, my…family?_

Suddenly, despite all the stupid things she had learnt throughout her life, _family _meant nothing. No, even this _foster mother _of hers, she had hidden the truth so long! There was no trust, no love between them. _Family _was a lie.

_You promised not to cry, Arelise—_

_SHUT UP! _

Furiously, she stood, flinging the tears from her eyes. _I will _kill _them for it!_ She cried._ I will show them what a _real _murderess is. This is the child they chose to abandon for death!_

_Arelise—_

But Arelise heard not, as she rose—tears and wrath in her dark human eyes—eyes different from the dragons'. What she would give, to rip those eyes out, and have the eyes of the dragons instead!

Her sobs became screams. She fled into the snows, screaming, leaving her mother-dragon to plead forgiveness in the echoes of the cave.

* * *

_Unto the world, a new law must be written._

She swooped through nightfall's curtains, like a ghost of the dead branches and the cold stars above, for heaven could not see her, and hell filled her wings. She fell upon the village, silent as the night wind, a devil here to claim her due.

Blood, blood, _blood. _Her thirst made her lick her lips and bare her teeth as she waited, breath bated, at the door. Arelise flexed her fingers, her hardened nails gleaming.

_Predator and prey. _She knew who stood on which side of the line.

Then, all was thunder. The ice crunched and the blood danced into the sky. And she tore and laughed, and did what the dragons did best.

* * *

"Oh—_Goddess Minerva_. I don't believe it."

A hundred swarmed the orphanage doors, come six in the morning—living men with dead eyes and sweat even in the cold. They muttered as if they couldn't understand, eyes full of darkness and consciousness—and yet every one of them knew. Knew, all too clear, like the snow biting at their bare feet.

Mass murder.

The reek of blood curtained the smells of mundane snowy morning—the hearth fires, the cooking porridge, the animal spoils in the marketplace. Though smoke rose from chimneys and market-goers shouted their bargains, the acrid stench was clear like a gong note.

Mass murder.

The chief made his stately entrance with little time to spare. "Make way," he commanded, forcing his way past the bystanders with furious graveness. "Let me see this."

But of course, the instant he had advanced past the nosey onlookers and the scene came into sight, he could only freeze, and utter the same words everyone else had.

"_Goddess above!_ What the hell—"

For this was what he saw, like everyone else. Bodies piled on each other. A hundred pale corpses huddled against the orphanage wall in an orgy of dizzying psychedelia. Children's corpses. Stark crimson blood, stale waterfalls, pooling on the snow, spilt wine that now swarmed with flies.

They'd seen it once before—in an attack by a stray ice dragon. Necks crushed, abdomens torn open by claws, deep bite marks lining bloodstained limbs—all identical. This was, in every way, a dragon attack.

But only one thing was wrong.

Those bite marks belonged to a human.

* * *

And the monster struck again and again, like a raptor craving too deeply the taste of meat. One by one, households were torn apart, and more children died. Each morning, they would awaken to hear news of another newborn's body, another woman's son, thrown upon the snow at the parents' doorway.

And the nightmare kept returning—a nightmare that didn't end when dawn broke.

* * *

_She never did understand. She only believed the Dark's words, because she had been taught that they were truth._

* * *

_Here lies Cinnarin Amis-Wren_

_The woman who never let love go_

Cinnarin was always a dreamer.

On cloudless nights, she would rest her chin on the cold wooden windowsill, and watch as the ghosts danced around the North Star with the most beautiful snow songs in the world. It wasn't a legend; they dreamt and sang like the rest of the world, the souls of the dead who had been called to light by the Goddess.

Sometimes she would hear them whisper to her, words of her lost grandmother and her dead pet Jr. Yeti, beckoning her to the sky and wishing her the best. Sometimes, she didn't know what to believe, and sometimes, they were her only truth.

At the dining table, Coriol would call out, telling his wife not to be so childish. Still, Cinnarin would let the enchantment of the sky engulf her, and it made her smile widen even more.

"Haven't you seen the North Star, Cori? It's calling to me."

And her husband would only sigh, wondering whether he ought to dream like her.

* * *

_But there was only silence and stillness around her, flooding the spaces between her shrieks. The dark figures had vanished, and beyond, the icy, windswept rises entombed the sky._

_She gazed up at the stars, unknowing of the directions they pointed. She didn't truly understand, and yet she did. She was everyone in the world, all at the same time—everyone who had loved, been loved, shunned it and embraced it. It was disgusting, it was beautiful._

* * *

Coriol Wren pulled his fur coat tighter around him as he ran. He did so, not to ward off the biting chill of the snowy morning, but to keep out the mortifying cold of something deeper.

In the dawn, the emptiness of the streets was haunting. He refused to notice, as he hastened to reach his destination. The hunters of El Nath had been summoned to the guild house that morning, and the veteran had a pretty clear idea what this was about.

_Oh, Goddess, this can't really be my task to perform._

Swallowing and wrapping the coat even tighter, Coriol Wren felt his fingers shake as the guild house came into view.

* * *

In the shadow of the potion shop, Arelise laughed dizzily. The blood on her tongue was heavenly. But she also felt the itch of annoyance—they were raising their defences, setting hunters on her trail. She would have to hide.

But hiding would be a simple matter, simply because her foster mother had taught her the human language. It would serve her well, now. The best place to hide from someone was among his own people.

* * *

Remember this, Arelise! _Ydrila called out, as she arranged her collection of Hector tails and Leatty furballs by her bed. Her eyes still stung from the scolding she had just received._

Yes? _Arelise replied._

_She swooped down to land next to her, curling her tail around her daughter's figure. _

Sometimes, love means pain, _she sang. _Sometimes, you have to hurt someone if you love them. But in the end, love is all-conquering, and love will find its way back to you. So take heart…

_Arelise hummed in disinterest, producing the sardines she had procured from the Jr. Pepes she had hunted down, arranging them beside the furballs. She had always loved collecting these strange odds and ends. Her mother found it _weird_, but it was just beautiful, to her._

Remember that! _Ydrila repeated. Arelise nodded, but her attention was elsewhere._

* * *

The late afternoon light streamed through the strings of the harp, casting a delicate shadow on the wooden floor. Kyel pursed his lips, stopped by a particularly difficult chord. His eyes sought out the five individual strings, fingers searching for them…

In the silence, there was a small knock on his door. He hadn't been expecting any visitors, and the abnormality of this event made him shiver.

_What if it's—_

But now he considered the chances of the killer attempting a crime in daylight, and he felt his caution dissipate slightly. Was it safe?

Apprehensively, Kyel stood and crossed the room. His heart was in his mouth, as he grasped the doorknob and turned it—

Where he had expected to find a killer, there only stood a young woman. Her hair was in wavy black locks, her blue eyes beautiful. But there was a terrifying light of fierceness in them, and it suddenly made Kyel want to slam the door shut.

Then she began to speak. "I am only a traveler," she said with a distant, lilting accent, almost as if she were singing. "I have come in search of business. I heard your music on the road, and it drew me. Do you have room for accommodation?"

Blinking a little, Kyel slowly found a smile. "Yes, of course, and it's a good thing you came in," he replied. "There's a murderer loose on El Nath, and he or she might have attacked you if you had waited outside any longer." He glanced out the window at the setting sun, heart rate quickening with fear.

The young woman thanked him and glanced around, searching for a place to sit. She didn't carry anything with her, he suddenly noticed. Being his usual paranoid self, Kyel found this a little suspicious. "What is your business?" he asked testily.

"I—I am an ice carver," she replied after composing herself. "I work with no tools but my fingers and my magic."

"Oh? Show me?" he requested, following her to his dining table. She pulled herself a seat and flexed her fingers, her black-painted nails gleaming—

Kyel stepped back. "My goodness, your nails," he gasped, slightly horrified. She laughed softly—a strange, enchanting sort of laugh.

"I lacquer them so that I can carve with them," she replied. "Tools cost much nowadays." The girl blew into her palms, glitter swirling and gathering there in a growing block of ice.

Kyel felt his breaths grow involuntarily deeper, while his brain suddenly joined the dots. "Ice breath," he whispered. "Isn't that a dragon art?"

Again the young woman lost her composure. "It—it is," she gasped. "I traveled into the mountains to learn it myself. It was not easy …"

Kyel could feel the slight suspicion buzzing at the back of his mind again, but he pushed it away. This craftswoman couldn't be dangerous in any way. Maybe a liar, at worst—but not a killer. He returned his attention to the girl's hands, where the ice statue was slowly taking shape.

"What's your name?"

"My name?"

She turned to regard him oddly, then seemed to understand. "Ah, call me Arelise," she replied, turning away. After a pause, Arelise spoke again. "What is yours?"

"I'm—I'm…Kyel," he murmured nervously. Was this all right, revealing his name to some girl he didn't yet know? As he listened to the sound of gently cracking ice, Kyel felt fear churn in his stomach. "Sorry…I'm just so afraid of strangers…and I'm not used to having visitors appear at my door like this. It's terrifying."

The girl stood and smiled again. "No, that is fine," she said. "I think it is actually quite charming…" Suddenly, she held out her carving to him—a beautiful ice harp. Kyel's mouth fell open as he took it in his hand, all distrust falling instantly away.

"Thanks," he said softly. "You're an amazing carver…"

Arelise smiled and fanned out her sharp black nails with pride, an action that should have terrified him to pieces. But he found himself admiring them instead, with a small smile of his own. She was a strange one, this Arelise. But she was likeable.

* * *

"_All evidence points to the fact that she hides somewhere in the village. You will thus go in shifts of five to search the houses—one from dusk to midnight, one from midnight to three o'clock, and one from three until daybreak._

"_In each shift, one person will patrol each sector of El Nath. The villagers have been instructed to assist you—if any of them spots the murderer in question, they will send out a signal—a blue flare, which has been installed in every household—and you must respond with immediacy. That clear?"_

_They glanced at each other and nodded. Deep inside, they were terrified. But they were men, and they couldn't let that show. So false bravado was their only answer._

* * *

Thus, Arelise's new life had begun. She settled comfortably into Kyel's house, helping him regularly with chores and listening to his music while she continued to carve. Soon the unfamiliarity had melted away—and real friendship took its place, so warmly. Now they would take walks together in the snow, and she would get to know the townspeople with him.

The days spun by like snowflakes. Occasionally, the girl found herself forgetting her task. He just distracted her that much—he acted so much more like a friend than a host. Slowly, she was losing purpose—doing it more for joy than for the information that would progress her deeds.

_Don't forget yourself! _She kept reminding herself. But she kept warming up to him even more everyday, learning little things about the musician she had never known before. This was looking to become permanent in her life—but could she let it…?

_No, don't forget yourself. _There was a part of her that he would always hate, no matter how close they became.

In the next weeks, the hunters paid Kyel a visit. She almost died from the terror that they had found her out—but they were only here to hook an electric flare to the wall.

"If you happen to find the murderer, you are to light it and throw it on the snow," they instructed.

Arelise's eyes burnt darkly, as they said this. _I will catch them before they catch me, _she thought. _I have to finish my quest._

* * *

Where did I come from? _She often wondered, as she gazed up at her mother-dragon, trying to understand._ Do I have real parents? Why am I not with them? If Ydrila isn't my real mother, does she really love me? _So strange, for a five-year-old to wonder these things. It was instinct. Dark, dark questions; these dark things had been her calling since birth. She took refuge in angst, in hate and fear. How had these things entered an innocent spirit?_

_(But the seeds had been planted long ago, somewhere between the icy mountains—seeds that grew into strange questions and haunted her all the time.)_

* * *

Evening fell like a curtain on the small town, once more. As the birds were cooing their farewells, Arelise's host called her to the kitchen, against the sound of water bubbling. It had been a month and a half since her arrival; she had already accustomed herself to the routine.

"Honestly, why do you live alone?" she muttered, cutting the bland carrots with distaste. She had begun to talk exactly like him, over her stay here. "You've got to do all your chores yourself. It's not fun, is it?"

"Definitely not," Kyel laughed. "It's terrible." Then his voice took on a bitter edge. "Well, I left for a reason. They didn't love me. I was just a _slave _to them."

"…They?"

His eyes held a more pain than all his words. Blinking, he looked down at the fish he was de-scaling. "My mother, my father—nope, didn't love me one ounce. I've never, ever been loved in my life."

"I—I know how it's like," she suddenly replied. Kyel glanced up in surprise. Blinking, Arelise hoped desperately that he couldn't see her tears. "I've never…never been loved before." Her fingers accidentally let her knife slip. Wincing, she laid it down and licked the blood off her finger. Swallowed deep.

Darkly, Arelise added, "I'm going to make sure _someone _else feels that pain."

Kyel's eyes widened. "Arelise," he gasped. "You…you don't have to. It isn't worth it—"

"I'm a vengeful person," Arelise answered. "Don't stop me."

Silence swept through the room like a cold wind, and they went back to their cooking.

Ten minutes washed by, before Kyel finally broke it. "At least life is pretty decent here," he said more cheerfully. "The chief likes my music…"

A smile had come to the musician's lips, and Arelise found herself loving it so much—for it suddenly made her believe that the world wasn't so cold. How much she wished she could think the way he did…

Arelise sighed deeply and cleared the chopping board of carrots, hoping that Kyel hadn't noticed her lapse in attention. She stared down at the dead creature's gleaming body, mind full of greyness and indecision.

* * *

_Three months, and they hadn't seen any trace of the killer. Some were even beginning to wonder if it had only been a communal nightmare. Guard shifts were reduced from five to three; the hunters began to slacken in their watch. And as the days grew brighter, people felt the relief sinking in. They soaked it up, like a cold man would soak up sunshine._

* * *

_Stop this idiocy, Arelise! _The girl scolded herself. But then she heard the magical notes of Kyel's harp, and she found herself relenting to her newfound joy.

Her mind only worked on her quest in the subconscious, now—and she had taken three months to realise that she needed weapons. "Hey, Kyel…" she called. "Do you know I could buy weapons? Just in case?" His answer was all she needed; then, she could leave this place.

_Leave this place. _The thought made her feel so cold.

Kyel turned. Three months ago, he would have gone completely panicky at the mention of weapons. But somehow he had lost that paranoia around her, and now showed absolutely no fear. "There's a weapon shop at the fountain end of the market street. You know that place, right?"

She nodded and walked to the door, while Kyel gazed on at her—

The sound of the doorknob clicking flung the musician out of his daydream. Rising suddenly, he dashed to the door and snatched her hand, tugging her back. "Hey!" Arelise exclaimed, turning to him.

"Please—please…don't put yourself in danger," he gasped, letting go of her fingers. "I'm just—so afraid."

"No need to be so worried, you paranoid idiot!" Arelise replied with amusement, touching his arm. Grinning to herself, she resumed her exit. _He is so cute sometimes, _she thought.

* * *

"_How can you be so _lazy_?_ _The murderer still lurks in our town! We have no evidence of his or her departure, and until we do, you _will _remain vigilant! You are _hunters—_you don't let your prey go just because you can't see it!"_

_No one responded. He grunted in annoyance and turned. And they murmured their agreement, bowing, though their hearts were screaming otherwise._

* * *

_Unto the world, a promise is torn._

Over the frozen autumn, the hunters came back on duty, steadfast as ever. And alone in Kyel's house, Arelise watched through the windows, more frightened than she had ever been before. She gazed at the cold snow fluttering down through the grey sky, shivering slightly.

Once, she had been ruthless. She had known no guilt, no doubt.

But Kyel had softened her that much. It was as if he had opened a window to her, a window through which she could see herself. He was who _she _was—a lonely person who had never known love.

They often talked of loss and loneliness, sitting together at the sofa on stormy days, watching the pale snow though the glassy panes and warming their hands on their laps. Then they would stare off in silence, and never ask each other what they were thinking. They both understood, without words. And they argued ever so often, too—but their friendship had deepened to the point that such disputes were mere bumps in the road.

It was magical, sweet—and dissonant in her heart. It was so confusing.

Half a year already—she _still _hadn't made a move from the musician's house. Her excuse was always this: She only had two knives, while the hunters had all the equipment of the village. She told herself that she wouldn't last long, and would have to get more before she could hope to take her revenge.

But deep within herself, Arelise also knew that she was staying for _him. _For the warmth, for the familiarity, deepening everyday. Why she needed it so, she didn't know. But she knew that it was a weakness, and she knew she would have to banish it eventually…

* * *

_Hate is nurtured in mere seconds, but love takes seasons to grow._

* * *

"Arelise." There was gentleness in Kyel's voice, as he sat down at his harp and tuned it. Arelise turned, and her heart seemed to melt at the sound of the first note.

"Hm?"

"Have I ever sung for you before?" His brown gaze was warm and earnest, and Arelise suddenly went breathless in it. She shook her head with a small, shy smile. Laughing softly, he sounded a chord.

Over the half-year she had lived in the musician's house, it surprised Arelise that she had never heard him sing before. She had thought she already knew everything about him—till now.

"Alright, then—" He swallowed, turned to her for comfort. "Here goes.

"_We were—"_

Arelise leapt from her seat, running over to the harp. "I know this song!" she exclaimed, recalling how Ydrila had sung her to sleep with these words, in dragon tongue. "Go on, go on!" Kyel's smile widened, and he closed his eyes, breathing. But as the youth began once more, she joined him, singing the harmony to the tune.

"_We were only two children_

_At the heart of a cold world_

_With only one candle _

_To light us the way… _

"Arelise! Your voice is amazing!" Arelise had never seen the youth's face so bright before. She grinned at him, and they went on together.

The song. She remembered the words so clearly now. It was a song of strange places, and of stars, of love in a cold place. It was optimistic, impossible—and yet the moment she heard them in Kyel's voice, she believed every word—though she had been hurt so many times before, though she had never known love. _Didn't she?_

"_But somewhere deep, sleeping—"_

Suddenly, Kyel stopped. The silence hung in the air of the room for a whole minute, ringing so resonantly it was almost magical. Arelise's voice froze with the music. And he looked afraid, so afraid.

"Is…anything wrong?"

Finally Kyel turned to her, eyes brimming. "Arelise," he said softly. "Arelise, if you had the choice…would you stay here forever?" He turned away. "With me?"

Arelise felt her eyes widen, her heart crying. _Yes, yes, yes! _It sang. _Yes, I would—I would give anything to do that! _But her mind pleaded with her, pleaded that she didn't give in…

"You said you were lonely, so many times," he added suddenly. "You said that you've never been loved. But you don't have to feel that way anymore!" He rose, turning to her. "I—I—" He blinked. Arelise felt the musician's eyes burn deep into her, and at that moment everything went haywire in her mind.

"What?" she gasped. "No, you can't—"

"I love you," Kyel said, grasping her shoulders. "I know it's—" Those brown eyes darted away. "I know it's so sudden. But how often…how often do you find someone who understands you more than yourself?"

"But—but—" Arelise' mind was a hurricane. She fought him away, breaths deep and terrified. "You can't! There's too much about me you don't know! I'm—"

She felt her gaze lower itself, from the burden of all the lies she had told. "I was brought up by dragons!" she said. "The ice breath, the claws, they're all—"

"That doesn't matter!" Kyel shouted out in reply, stepping forward when she backed away. "You're the chance I've waited for all my life—the chance for me to lose my pain…"

The dragon girl stepped back again, shaking her head so hard, crying. She couldn't. She couldn't, because she had something to do, and he would only pull her back. She couldn't, even though she loved him too.

"Kyel—Kyel…I'm not who you think I am," Arelise whispered, clenching her fists, eyes narrowed. "These claws—" she looked down at them. "—They aren't for carving. They're for killing. They're—"

Then his eyes were suddenly stirred up in deep terror. "You—" he gasped, shaking his head. "No, please—no…"

"Yes, _I'm _the murderess they're looking for!" Arelise snarled and bared her teeth, eyes burning with tears. "I won't be here forever! Soon I'll leave, and I'll kill all the children here. And then the hunters will claim me!"

* * *

Kyel should have been afraid. No, he should be scared out of his wits. He should be fleeing from the house at this instant.

But somehow, he felt as if electricity were running through his nerves, his soul so terrifyingly calm.

"Why?" he murmured. "Why must you give up your life like that?"

More tears. "My father," she whispered. "My father—"

He stepped forward, reaching out, suddenly understanding. But she only flung his hand away, drawing further and further away. "Do you know what _happened _to me?" she screamed."My father called me a murderess, just because my mother died! He left me to die in the snow, to be _eaten _by dragons!"

She collapsed against the wall, sobbing. "I'm nothing but _unwanted!_ An unwanted _creature, _un_loved_, un_needed_! Why must this all be my own pain to take?" She whirled around, teeth bared like a wild animal. _"Well, he called me a murderess! So I'll show everyone—"_

Kyel should have gone to light the flare. He knew he should have. But he only reached out to hold her face in his hands, because he knew that pain so well. "You can change, can't you, Arelise?" he asked angrily. "You can leave behind!" He watched as her eyes opened, tears falling from her eyelids. "Arelise, who am I to you? Do my words count as anything? _What_ am I?"

Her lips parted slightly. "Everything," she finally gasped. "Everything, Kyel—"

He tilted her face towards his, and kissed her. Arelise fought desperately for moments, before ceasing and closing her eyes, more tears falling. Moments swung by. She pulled herself away, breathing deeply. "You can't do this," the girl whispered. "I won't change, Kyel—I have a debt to claim—"

And sudden as it had left, the monster returned, filling her eyes with sheer poison. _"He didn't want me, so he took everything away," _she screeched, panting. _"I'll take everything away from them! Take _everything _away!"_

There was a demon there in her eyes. A dark monster, which finally drove the terror too deep. He whirled away, snatched the flare from the wall. _"No!"_ Arelise screamed, flinging herself, claws sprawled, at him. He sidestepped her, lit the flare, tossed it out the window. Both stared as the blue sparks exploded into the sky, and shouts began to resound through the streets.

"You had the chance, Arelise," Kyel gasped, turning to Arelise. His throat burnt with tears, but he refused to show it to her. "_You had the chance._"

* * *

_The sparks were exploding over the rooftops. Everyone turned, and instantly the shouts began._

_But the men were too frightened. And only one went running, when the blue fireworks soared into the open sky. Coriol Wren, best hunter in El Nath._

"_Five minutes," they made arrangements among themselves. "If Wren doesn't send news in five minutes, we go check on him. All of us." They nodded and murmured, obscuring the terror from their gazes._

* * *

"Kyel!" Arelise roared, shaking. "KYEL!"

His eyes were glazed, his expression silent. And as the images of his distant smile echoed through her memory, she felt despair sink in upon her.

Love had _always _been false. She should have realized, before she hurt herself this way. For those minutes, he had almost made her believe in love again. But he had only been _lying._

Now it was too late to change anything.

The door slammed open, a hunter appearing at the doorway, gleaming harpoon in hand. "Freeze," he growled. Cold panic gripping her, she glanced up at the knives on the shelf. Just out of reach.

She turned her gaze back to him, and snarled.

But something changed in his expression with no warning, eyes filling to the brim with shock. Arelise stopped, confused. He looked dizzy, faint—disbelieving.

"Oh, Goddess," he gasped. "It's you, Arelise… You—you look just like your mother—"

The sound of her name from unfamiliar lips dazed her for a moment.

But then, she realized that the voice wasn't unfamiliar at all.

"My—father," she replied, the fire quickly returning to her eyes as she growled and raised her claws. _"My father."_

After seventeen years. Seventeen long, painful years of brooding and wondering. _Where did I come from?_

And everything shattered, the curtains of silence torn to shreds. Arelise screamed. Leapt for the knives, spun, charged towards him. The first knife caught his leather glove; the second slit his left arm—but as she drew back, he snatched her wrists with so much force she thought they might crack. _"FATHER!" _she kicked him, spat at him, clawed at his arms. _"Why, _Father_?"_

"Arelise, listen to me!" he called desperately. "Listen! I always knew I shouldn't have done that! I'm sorry, Arelise!"

"Well, I don't believe you, _Father!" _She twisted her right arm and freed it from his grip, thrusting her knife towards his neck—but his hand caught it again. She gasped in despair. "You threw me away. You wantedme to _die_!" Without her bidding, tears were welling in her eyes as she sent another useless thrust at his neck.

"No, no—please, listen! You've got it wrong," her father pleaded, his grip on her hands growing tighter. "I went back to look for you! Oh, I wish you'd come back earlier…" His eyes grew even more earnest. "Come on, it isn't too late—we can still run away, start over—"

Too late. _Far _too late.

Shouts rang from outside the window. Then twenty hunters charged into the house, weapons ringing against each other. And there was only one thing in their eyes: hunger, for victory, for a fruitful hunt, for the blood of a criminal.

Her father cried out in protest, furious protest.

But still metal rang, their cries for blood swelling. They fell upon her, a flock of vultures to carrion—swooped down with ropes and cloths and fists clenched in glory, yellow eyes that swivelled and teeth gnashing in crazed joy. Bound her down before her next breath. Rough fingers groped at her, pulled her hair. She kicked, cried, bit—but no one heeded her pleas, her tears, as she was dragged further and further from redemption every moment.

And she was hauled out of the house, while they congratulated each other with slaps on the back. The cold of night doused her face as the hunters marched her down the streets, crying in triumph and drugged joy. Blinded, she heard the cheers from the households all around, from the men and women who left their homes to watch the procession.

"It's the great _murderess_!" they cried. Spat at her, jeered at her. "Exile her! Exile her!"

She thought of her father's eyes, Kyel's words.

_You had the chance._

And alone in her heart, Arelise cried.

* * *

"Well, miss," the hunter chuckled. "You know what the punishment for murder is, don't you?"

They were standing facing the mountains, gazing up at the starlit peaks. "Exile," someone behind her laughed. She felt her throat throb with pain.

"I am the daughter of the dragons," Arelise growled defiantly. "They will save me, as they did before. They will take their revenge, for what you have done to me."

"And if that is so, then we'll have to _exterminate _them_, _hm?" Behind the burly man, the rest of the hunters roared in laughter. "No, miss. You'll be chained down. The cold will kill you, _daughter of the dragons_."

_Chains. Cold. _Arelise felt as if the breath had been knocked from her.

At the mountaintop, the view of the stars was divine, breathtaking. But Arelise didn't see them. She swallowed, for she could hear the chains ringing, the cackles of witches.

She closed her eyes. Braced herself.

And her last hour began. In the darkness behind her eyelids, hands forced her back against the ice wall. Rings of ice were clamped around her wrists, chains wrapped twice round her body. She was lifted into the night air, her legs lowered deep, deep into the hole where she would lie for the rest of her life.

She never looked. Not once. All the while, Arelise kept her eyes welded shut, as she watched the world spinning away—a world too bright and too wide for her to comprehend. She saw the ones she had killed, screaming in hysterical joy. She saw her dead mother shaking her head and turning away.

Sobbing, she saw the stars vanish one by one, and she knew she would join them soon.

_Murder, exile. A child left to die in the snow. _There were only so many times a single soul could survive this. _Father…Father, why?_

This breath was weaker than the one before. Her legs felt nothing, not even the chains.

But this was a good punishment, no? She had always been part of the darkness, the darkness that everyone else had forgotten. She had been condemned to it, the moment her father had abandoned her. She was darkness, where the rest of the universe was light. She had always known it, believed it, embraced it.

_Too many sins, too many wounds scourged upon her soul._

And Arelise Wren would die, as all people of the darkness should. Without honour, without hope, without love.

* * *

_Arelise? Wake up, Arelise._

The girl blinked and opened her eyes slightly. Morning had broken. Was this a dream? Or was this heaven? The coldness around her had seeped so deep. It brought her such comfort she almost fell back asleep, and she waited for her death with calm. But she could have sworn she had heard her foster mother…

_Arelise! It's me, Ydrila._

Blinking, she turned her head slightly, and saw a single tearful, grey eye.

_Don't cry for me, _she whispered._ I'm just waiting now._

_You can't go like this, _her foster mother replied. _You are my daughter, and my daughter will not be killed by ice._

Though she was already so frozen, Arelise felt tears rise to her eyes.

Ydrila turned away. _Remember, Arelise? Sometimes love means pain. I can't save you without hurting you._

_Mother—_

_Be quiet, Arelise, _Ydrila whispered in comfort, touching her muzzle to the girl's forehead, while the tears fell from her eyes. _Be still. You won't die—not here, not now._

Arelise felt a deep warmth sweep through her body. All too quickly, her tears began to freeze on her cheeks, as her body stiffened, lost feeling.

Something had changed. She tried to sing, but her lips were locked.

_You will not be killed by ice, Arelise, _Ydrila repeated._ Remember this, my daughter. I love you._

So many times, her mother had said those three words. But only now, only _now_ did her heart beat painfully for them.

And it was already so late, too late.

Ydrila brushed Arelise's cheek with her tail. She felt nothing.

_I love you too, _Arelise wanted to reply. But her lips didn't follow her command. And she gazed on, forlornness deepening, as the dragon raised her silver wings and took to the sky.

* * *

The weeks were swift, slow. And because she couldn't close her eyes, Arelise watched.

She watched, as the hunters combed the mountains, and the dragons were brought down, one by one. She watched, as the valleys grew empty, and all her childhood friends faded away.

She longed to cry; yet she could not. She could only scream when the hunters came too close. It was the sound of a monster, a demon—a scream that no one understood.

Sometimes, the hunters would set down offerings at her grave, in the hope of appeasing her—Hector tails, Leatty furballs—other beautiful things. And she would let the hunters go, for her throat was clogged with tears.

Eventually, though she grasped them tight, her memories finally slipped through her grip and vanished—all locked away, deep, deep in the vault of time.

They were all gone. All gone. The mountains echoed with the wind, and the glorious dragon cries were no longer existent.

And the tears, the tears would always be trapped within the ice chamber.

* * *

Arelise looked up into the night sky, at the North Star that pointed the way to the tip of the world. It sparkled alone, stirring slightly in the blue evening. She had waited this long, watching a clouded sky with dark eyes that would never cry again. But tonight, the sky had cleared, and the world of stars had finally showed itself.

_And what is that song…?_

The lights suddenly began to dance around that single point of light, the skies filling to the brim like heaven beyond the sunset. She fell silent with awe, listening to the voices, clearer now—ancient melodies that wove powerfully through the night.

Faces rose and fell between the waves of the sky—faces, of people she had glimpsed before in her life—people who had died long ago.

It was like listening to thunder and song and snow, all at the same time—it made her heart leap, though she was bound and trapped. Her gaze lingered for minutes, and she could almost the joy on her frozen tongue…

Through the glorious halo of ghosts, a single voice suddenly reached out to her. Tentative, lonely.

"_Arelise…"_

Arelise blinked. A face so much like hers had appeared—the face of a woman worn down by exhaustion…

_Mother!_ She longed to shout in joy, but the words were trapped. _Mother, it's you, finally…!_

The ghost turned her gaze upon the girl, eyes brimming. _"Arelise,"_ she laughed, reaching out as if she could touch her lost daughter. _"You're so beautiful, Arelise! Oh, how I wish I had lived to see you grow up! I died because I loved you, my darling. I'm so sorry… I never, ever meant for you to suffer." _Then she smiled._ "But you're alive, and isn't that the most wonderful thing?"_

Arelise could feel the tears stinging in her eyes. _No, _she answered. _No, it's been a curse! Nothing but a _curse_!_ The girl felt herself go blind with pain. _I'm just a _murderess, _Mother. A hated, disgusting _murderess_— _

She choked on her tears, gazing up into the pool of ghosts. _All my life, I only wanted one thing, one thing I _never _got! It's the reason I was an angry person. The reason I became a killer. The reason I hated those children, who lived with their families and laughed with them—_

She felt her heart clench in her chest.

_Love._

_I just wanted someone to love me._

The wind flooded the valley, and the sky fell silent. Her mother's eyes were so gentle, so sad.

"_But I love you, Arelise," _she whispered. _"Your father loves you. Kyel wasn't lying either. And Ydrila—she loved you, as much as I do! We don't care what you choose to do, Arelise. We don't care if you're good or evil, kind or cruel! We've always loved you, Arelise—all your life…"_

Arelise remembered now, those things she had never noticed. She remembered her father's desperate gaze, as he pleaded with the daughter he had lost. She remembered her foster mother's tears, as she touched her muzzle to her cheek. She remembered Kyel's smile, as his songs unfolded the tale of life. All gone, all flown away like the evening birds.

And a fork of white bloomed through the sky.

Arelise's eyes were shattering. They turned into shards that cut the sky like tiny mirrors. They fell away like glass, like snow, broken promises scattering deep into the darkness. Tears were flooding her gaze—tears of a lost love, tears of a missed chance—tears that now streamed down her cheeks in sweet currents, and melted the snow.

Crying, at last.

The stars were still caught in their symphony, and Arelise was lost, lost so deep in their voices.

* * *

_She was everyone in the world, all at the same time—everyone who had loved, been loved, shunned it and embraced it. It was disgusting, it was beautiful._

* * *

Footsteps crunched in the snow. A slight figure appeared at the mountaintop—a youth with a lyre in hand. He placed a bouquet at her feet, and rose again to look into her empty, broken eyes.

"Arelise," he whispered, resting his forehead against the ice. "I'm…so sorry. I condemned you to death. Just because—I was afraid."

More tears poured down his face, sparkling in the light of the North Star. He wiped them away, and raised his lyre.

_Is she even there? Will she hear me?_

But he pushed all his doubts and hopes aside, so the song alone filled his heart. _Please, please, Arelise. Please hear me._

Breathing deep, he plucked the strings of his lyre. Slowly, he sang, and the first thin note quavered in his throat. _"We were only—"_

Suddenly he heard a soft hum.

The musician froze, before cautiously continuing to sing. There it was again—a lonely voice, humming in harmony with the tune he played. He looked up at the statue in confusion and fear, reaching out to touch her tear-stained face—

His fingers leapt away.

A heartbeat, throbbing gently within the ice.

Yet more tears cascaded down his cheeks, as he found his breath again.

_She can hear me._

Blinking, the lone youth strummed his lyre, and sang on.

* * *

_We were only two children  
At the heart of a cold world  
With only one candle  
To light us the way…_

…

_but we danced to the edges  
and dared all the devils  
until, in the moonlight,  
we found a place to stay…_

Arelise was always a dreamer.

On cloudless nights, she would gaze at the North Star, and watch as the ghosts danced around it with the most beautiful snow songs in the world. It wasn't a legend; they dreamt and sang like the rest of the world, the souls of the dead who had been called to light by the Goddess.

Sometimes she would hear her mother again, whispering the things she had never had a chance to say. Sometimes she would hear Ydrila nagging, or one of her childhood friends calling her to play. And eventually, too, she knew that she would hear her father and Kyel among them, calling out her name.

But she knew she would never join them.

Sometimes, she would scream to the stars, until her heart was void and cold. _They _would bring gifts to silence her—gifts that made her heart break, again and again.

And every so often, when she was alone, she would look up at the world, and ask.

_When, Mother? When will it end?_

Two voices would answer—the voice of a woman, and the voice of a dragon.

_It doesn't matter, dearest! We will be with you all the way, and we will love you still._

She would smile behind her shimmering tears, when she heard those words. It was like watching a glacier fill its pool, watching the mountains grow taller. But she understood, and she let go.

So, alone on the mountaintop, Arelise Wren would hum a lonely harp tune to herself. Then she would fall back into her dreams, where she would wander the world like a lost child.

* * *

_Unto the world, a new story is finished._

The wind is sweet, sweet as ever—sweeping the valleys, the mountains, the fields. It sings, flows, writes its own lyrics—touching the yeti's noses as they raise their heads to the silver morning, inviting them to their dance.

But something is different today, as they approach the silent altar. Curious, they sweep around it in a circle, tossing the petals from the bouquet into the air, whistling as the white pieces, more delicate than snow, flutter down upon the altar.

In the sky, the night still hadn't faded away. In the blue-and-indigo quilt above, the stars blink and glint like gemstones. And the witch of the hunter's altar continues to gaze up upon them, at the North Star that points to heaven.

Glancing at each other in surprise, the winds sweep up into the sky, racing each other to the summit. They rise until they are touching the North Star, waltzing and whispering songs between the ghosts.

And as they gaze back down at the altar, they swear they can see her laugh.

Falling back to the world, they trace the letters on the altar. Someone has carved new words beneath her. Whom, they have no idea.

But these words make her smile—they can see it, if they look deep enough into those shattered snow eyes.

And so they dance away into the world, laughing to themselves—for they know that today, Arelise Wren is happy.

* * *

_Here lies Arelise Wren_

_Daughter of the Dragons_

_Treasure of the stars_

_**FIN**_

* * *

A/N. Haha, Daughter **of the dragon**s, treasure **of the stars**.

I'm theorising here that the Witch can only fly around in the game because that's the vengeful half of her spirit. It is freed whenever she is angry or despairing. Hence the sound of screaming always accompanies its appearance (dunno, I _might _write another fanfic about this).

Merry Christmas to everyone here. Have a blessed day today/tomorrow, and I hope you've enjoyed/benefited from reading this, in some way. Otherwise, I apologise for the disappointing piece.


End file.
